


The Whitlock House

by slightly_ajar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family, Haunted House, Siblings, Supernatural Elements, Team as Family, spooky dos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: The team find shelter in an old house but they discover that there’s more than just dust in the abandoned home.“It was a dark and stormy night.”I’ve wanted to write a story with a haunted house in for a while and Halloween seemed like the perfect excuse to do it.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	The Whitlock House

“It was a dark and stormy night.” 

Mac let the team run into the house ahead of him then followed them, slamming the front door he’d been holding shut behind him against the wild weather. A ferocious blast of wind battered against the side of the house howling like a speeding freight train. “What?” Mac shivered, his wet clothes stuck to him as rain ran off his hair and into his eyes. 

“We're in a dark, dusty old house at night while there’s a storm going crazy outside, it’s the perfect time to say,” Bozer struck a dramatic pose, “it was a dark and stormy night.” 

“If you say so” Riley said, wiping rain from her eyes and looking around. “There’s definitely no one at home, right? I don’t want to end up on the wrong end of an angry homeowner with a shot gun.” 

“I don’t think anyone has been here for years, Riles.” Desi had pulled out her phone and was shining it’s torch around her, lighting up peeling wallpaper, dusty wooden furniture and cobwebs. “I’d say we’re the first living creatures to set foot in here for a long time, the first with only two legs at least.” 

“Spiders!” Bozer arched up to his tip toes and looked down at his feet nervously. 

The only thing visible on the tiled floor in the dim light of Desi’s torch was the team’s footprints in the layer of dust covering it. Dust covered everything, the mirror by the front door, the glass light fittings on the walls, the thick wooden bannister beside the stairs that curved up towards the upper story. Cobwebs hung from the doorways of the rooms branching off from the hall and Mac could smell years of emptiness and damp in the thick atmosphere. 

Mac slapped Bozer on the arm. “Any spiders in here will be more scared of you than you are of them, Boze,” 

“I don’t know, there was a spider in my bathroom the other week that looked like it was ready to fight me for possession of the apartment.” Bozer shuddered. 

“I think we have other things than spiders to worry about right now.” Mac’s flashlight joined Desi’s in scanning the hallway. 

“Right,” Bozer said. “like where are we, how are we going to get our car fixed in the middle of the night and will our coms and cell services work with this storm happening right above us?” 

Mac nodded. “That about sums it up.” 

“Also,” Riley added, “are we going to be able to dry off and warm up? I don’t know about anyone else but I’m freezing. I think it’s colder in here than it was outside.” 

“You’re right.” Mac rubbed at the goose flesh covering his arms and flashed his torch into the dark rooms off the hall. “Let’s see if we can light a fire to warm the place up.” He headed towards the fireplace with the ornate marble mantelpiece sitting dark and empty in the living room and crouched down in front of it, putting his head into the dark space leading up to the flue. “I guess this is okay, we’ll find out if it’s clear soon enough.” 

“Someone with two legs has been here, look.” Bozer kicked at a plastic bag that was sitting next to the fireplace. The bag crinkled and flakes of plastic drifted onto the floor. 

“There are bottles of beer in there,” Desi said as she peered into the carrier, “and, aha, matches!” she snatched the box up, rattled it to check it wasn’t empty, then threw it over to Mac. “Here, this will help you light a fire.” 

“Whoever brought the matches must have brought all this firewood too.” Mac pointed to the pile of logs that was stacked up next to where he was kneeling. “Someone must have been planning to do a little indoor camping.” 

“But they didn’t stay for the whole night.” Riley knelt next to the bag of bottles and picked one up. “There are plenty of supplies here for a night’s adventure, beer, chips, matches, newspaper for kindling, candles, and none of it has been used. Whoever came here for a picnic didn’t stick around. It’s weird.” 

Mac shrugged as he piled some logs into the fireplace along with some of the newspaper. “Maybe they changed their minds about staying here, or found out that they were allergic to dust, or they were teenagers who weren’t supposed to be here and they got busted by their parents.” 

“Or maybe,” Bozer said, lighting some of the candles from the bag and placing them around the dilapidated room, the flickering flames cast gently swaying shadows, “maybe something spooky happened and they ran out of here as fast as they could.” 

“What makes you think anything spooky happened?” Mac asked. 

“Mac,” Bozer gestured broadly, taking in the room, the house and the dark and gloomy environment, “look around you.” 

Mac could tell that once – a very long time ago - the room the team were in had been grand and beautiful. He felt sure that its soft furniture used to be opulent and comfortable, the wood of the grandfather clock stood in the corner had shone with a high polish and the proud faces of the house’s family had looked out from the portrait on the wall above the fireplace. But now all the fabric was grey with dust and age, the grandfather clock was silent with it’s face misted and unreadable and the painting was so mouldy it only showed four distorted silhouettes. 

“The house is just old,” Mac said with bravado. “It’s not that creepy.” 

A moan like the groaning of something pained and angry rolled through the downstairs rooms and echoed around the team. They all froze in place and stared at each other with wide eyes. 

“Come on, man,” Bozer gave Mac A Look, “you know that’s not true. That noise we just heard? That was creepy.” 

“It was just the sound of the house settling.” Mac lit a match and held it to the kindling he’d put in the fire. The flame caught and Mac fed it another thin piece of wood to help it grow. 

“Even if that’s true it was still creepy,” Bozer argued. 

The light from the flames of Mac’s fire joined with the candlelight to illuminate the room. The yellow glow did nothing to help ease the uncanny feeling creeping over the team, if anything the shadows shifting in unlit corners made the space seem more threatening. 

“That heat feels good,” Riley said as she and the rest of the team moved closer to the hearth with their hands stretched towards the warmth. 

The team’s coms crackled and Matty’s voice barked in their ears, “Report!” 

“Matty?” Mac asked. 

“Who else were you expecting?” Matty griped, “I’ve been trying to reach you for forty minutes.” 

“There’s a storm where we are,” Desi told her, “it must be interfering with the equipment.” 

“And where are you exactly?” 

“That’s the thing,” Riley said, “We were driving to the airport after the mission ended and, boom, our car’s tire had a blow out in the middle of nowhere. There was no spare in the trunk, nothing nearby and no one’s phone had a signal so we had to walk.” 

“For miles,” Bozer added. “We walked for miles along little back roads past fields, more fields, some trees and even more fields then this storm started. I thought we were all going to drown in the rain or get hit by lightning or something then we saw this empty house. We figured a little B & E was better than being killed by a thunderstorm.” 

“So you don’t know your exact location?” Matty asked. 

“No,” Bozer said, “but the address of this place has to be something like Creepy Old House, Nowhereland, USA,” 

“I’ll check it out,” Matty told the team, “sit tight.” 

  


“Is there a problem with the team?” Russ walked into the War Room as Matty finished barking an order into her phone. 

“The mission went fine,” Matty told him, “but they’re having problems making exfil. There’s a huge storm at their location and it’s interfering with the coms. They’ve taken shelter in an empty house somewhere and I need to find exactly where they are and then figure out a way to get exfil to them.” 

Russ sat down in one of the leather chairs and picked up a tablet from the table. “Can I help?” 

Matty looked at her watch. “Don’t you want to head home?” 

“I’ll wait till I know that everyone’s safe.” The tablet in Russ’ hand beeped and he read the message that had popped up on the display. He chuckled and handed the tablet to Matty. “The tech squad have been looking for the team since their signal went dark and they’ve found out some information about where they are, they’re going to love this.” 

Matty’s eyes widened as she looked at the tablet. 

“Guys, I have something for you,” she said as she opened up the coms. “We’ve pin pointed your location and it turns out that the house you’re in has been abandoned for decades.” 

“Okay?” Bozer’s voice came over the coms. “What else? The way you said that made it sound like there’s something else.” 

“There are reports of unusual things happening there and there are rumours that the house is haunted.” 

“Haunted?” Mac said, the line was full of static but the disbelief in Mac’s voice was clear. 

“According to a newspaper article the techs have found there’s been stories about a ghost terrorising the house at night for generations.” 

“That’s…interesting,” Mac said. “We’ll keep an eye out for spooks then, and maybe it will rain so much there’ll be a flood and we might spot the Loch Ness Monster.” 

“I once met a chap who swore he’d seen Nessie,” Russ said. “Nice fellow, seemed solid enough. He loved to tell the tale of what he’d witnessed in the Scottish mist.” 

“Was he drinking?” Mac asked. 

“He wasn’t when he claims he saw the monster but we were both enjoying a wee dram of the good stuff when he told me his story. We were in the Highlands it would have been rude not to.” 

Mac gave a scornful huff. 

“I’m looking into getting exfil to you,” Matty told him, “but the storm is causing all kinds of problems. There are power outages, cell network disruptions and the local authorities are busy dealing with emergency calls. Hold tight and keep your coms open and we’ll have to hope they keep working and we can get back to you. Do you copy?” 

“Yeah,” Matty heard Desi say, “we...” there was a loud hiss of static and the signal vanished. 

Matty and Russ exchanged a glance. “I’m sure that was just the storm interfering with the signal,” Russ said. 

“Oh yeah,” Matty agreed. When Russ cross one leg over the other to rest his ankle on his knee and frowned down at his tablet she added. “You’re staying?” 

“Like I said, I’ll go home when we’re sure that everyone is safe. And besides,” a light twinkled in Russ’ eyes, “They’re in a haunted house? I love a good ghost story. This is going to be interesting.” 

  


“Has she gone?” Bozer asked. 

“Yes,” Mac tapped at the device in his ear, “the storm has cut out the coms signal again.” His skin had dried but his clothes still hung wet and heavy on him and he shivered beneath them. He didn’t believe in ghosts but he did believe in hypothermia - that at least was a problem he could deal with using the resources he had to hand. “Is everyone feeling okay?” he asked as he added more wood to the fire and stoked it up till it was roaring. 

“Yeah,” Riley said, she looked at the shadows moving on the walls. “The fire’s helping. I’m a little creeped out though. Matty did say this place is supposed to be haunted.” 

“That might be what scared away whoever brought the supplies here.” Bozer nodded at the bag on the floor. “Maybe Casper the Not So Friendly Ghost doesn’t like gate crashers.” 

“There could be lots of perfectly logical, none haunted house related reasons why that stuff was left there,” Mac said, “ghosts will have nothing to do with it. Ghost don’t exist, not outside of books and movies, not in places where there’s logic and rationality.” Mac was prepared to admit that the dark, creaking house was a little spooky. It looked the way he always wanted his house to look when he decorated it for Halloween, but that didn’t mean it actually held any ghosts. The unsettled feeling tightening his nerves was just the night, the storm and the dark playing tricks on him and his friends. Places that were supposed to be inhabited by people were always a little unnerving when they were empty. That was what had the skin on the back of his neck tingling. Nothing else. 

“I don’t know,” Desi said, “there are a lot of things that can’t be explained with science.” 

“Such as?” Mac asked. 

Desi raised an eyebrow. “The success of the Twilight Saga.” 

“Okay I’ll give you that - some things are inexplicable - but there’s no such thing as ghosts.” 

A deafening clap of thunder boomed so close it was like it had come from directly above the house. 

“That was just the storm,” Mac said. 

There was another sound, a long drawn out scrape like the sound of something heavy being dragged across wooden floor. 

“And I’m sure that’s fine too.” Mac prodded at the fire with a poker he’d found next to the grate to avoid looking into his friends wide eyes. 

“That didn’t sound fine to me,” Bozer hissed in a whisper, “that sounded like something very, very different from fine.” 

“I’ll go and look around to check that there’s no one squatting in here or anything.” Desi said as she lit another candle. 

“On your own?” Bozer squeaked, “You never investigate the creepy noise in the dark on your own! Have you never seen any horror movies?” 

Desi shook her head, “No. I don’t watch horror movies. I see enough frightening things and real life monsters doing this job, I don’t want to spend my down time hearing blood curdling screams and watching scary things happen.” 

“So what do you do on Halloween?” Riley asked her. 

“I carve pumpkins, put up cute decorations, eat candy and watch Hocus Pocus and Ghostbusters,” Desi said. 

“Which Ghostbusters movie?” Bozer said. 

“All of them,” Desi answered. 

“Safety lights are for dudes.” Riley grinned. 

“Safety lights are for dudes.” Desi and Riley high fived. 

“I’ll come exploring with you,” Riley told Desi, “then you won’t be on your own. If there are any undead axe murderers lurking in here somewhere I think the two of us can fend them off.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Desi lit another candle and handed it to Riley. 

Mac stood up from where he’d been crouched in front of the fire. Now that the immediate concerns of light and heat had been taken care of his curiosity had been piqued. “We should look around in the rooms next to this one,” he told Bozer. 

“What for?” Bozer took a step away from Mac with his eyebrows folded up in disbelief. “There’s not going to be anything to see except dust and old stuff.” 

“There might be more supplies we can use and we can check that there isn’t anyone else here too, and it might help you realise there’s nothing to be scared of.” 

“I’m not scared!” Bozer protested. He walked over to a window and peeked out through the curtains at the lashing rain and the moon that kept disappearing behind boiling black clouds, “I’m being cautious. That’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to being stuck in a haunted house during a storm at night.” 

“Of course it is,” Riley said, “You be perfectly reasonable in here while Desi and I go and check out what’s happening over there. 

Desi pulled her phone out of her pocket and gestured to Mac and Bozer with it. “I’ve got my phone with me, so if there’s something strange in the neighbourhood who you gonna call?” She and Riley gave snorts of laughter as they headed into the hallway. 

“Let’s go.” Mac picked up one of the lit candles and walked towards the door to the next room. 

“Right now?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“This very moment?” 

“Do you have something else you need to do?” 

“Give me a minute,” Bozer lifted his chin and scrunching his face up in thought, “I’m sure I can think of something.” 

“Come on, man, it’ll be fine. There’ll probably be a lot of rotting thing and nothing else.” 

Bozer jabbed a finger at Mac. “You’ll be fine. You’re the blond hero, I’m the joke cracking black friend, I’m the one who gets dragged through the threshold of Hades by a terrifying shadow figure first.” 

“You can be the hero then, here.” Mac handed Bozer his candle, “You can carry the light and go, that’s a heroic thing to do.” 

“You want me to go first?” 

“Do you want to go last?” 

“What? No! The guy at the back always get's eaten.” 

“It’s one or the other, you choose. Or you could stay here.” 

“On my own!” 

“I-” Mac threw up his hands and let them drop heavily down to his sides. “You’re going to have to pick something, Boze.” 

“Fine! Okay! Dammit!” Bozer squared his shoulders. “I’ll go in first. But I’d like it noted in whatever paperwork that needs filling in after this whole mess of a day ends that I raised concerns about this course of action.” 

“Duly noted.” 

“Thank you.” Bozer spun on his heel with determination and stomped through the door at the end of the room. 

The dining room beyond it was dominated a long table. The table was set for a meal that had never happened and would never happen. It’s once shining cutlery was tarnished and the plates and table cloth were covered with dust and what looked like the tiny footprints of mice. 

“Whoever lived here obviously had Miss Havisham in to do the interior decorating,” Bozer said, moving his light and illuminating the candelabras standing on the dining table. “There’s nothing in here we can use, except maybe those,” he pointed to the candlesticks that were covered in cobwebs that dipped and rose from one to the other in a long, dusty line, “but I don’t want to pick them up, the thought of touching those cobwebs makes me all...brrr!” Bozer shivered. 

“Yeah me too,” Mac admitted. Disturbing the things on the table, moving what had stood motionless for decades felt like a bad idea. Disrespectful even. And Mac really didn’t want to feel the skittering brush of those cobwebs against his skin either. 

“Next room then?” Bozer asked. 

“Lead on,” Mac held out a hand in the direction of the next door and Bozer cautiously pushed it open and led them into a music room. Chairs were spread out around the room and a piano stood mouldering against a wall with yellowing sheets of music wilting on it’s stand. Some of the plaster on the ceiling had fallen down covering the floor in grey fragments with long strands of it hanging down like off-white icicles. The ground under Mac’s feet crunched as he stepped onto the debris. 

Like the other rooms the music room smelt of damp and abandonment. Mac knew that it shouldn’t be possible for desertion to have a smell but it somehow did. There was a scent and a cloying presence that spoke of somewhere that was forgotten and unwanted. He and Bozer were stood in what had been a family home. People had eaten there, played there, grown and lived their lives there, then they had suddenly gone and the house had been left to crumble, empty and unobserved. The house had been a home – it should have been a home - but it had been left behind. 

Mac made his way towards the piano to look at the music, wondering what song was the last one to be heard in the house, when one of the strands of plaster hanging from the ceiling fell and landed near his feet. His pulse skipped with shock and he jumped back. 

“That was close,” Bozer said and a second strand of plaster fell and landed on the arm of the chair next to him. “And so was that.” 

A third strand fell and landed on the piano’s keys with a discordant twang followed quickly by a forth that hit a table by the window then a fifth and a sixth and…

“I’ve seen enough, let’s get back to the fire,” Bozer said and he and Mac scurried out of the door. 

Across the hall Riley and Desi were stood in a room lined with shelves filled with rotting books. One of the floorboards beneath their feet had split and a strand of ivy had grown through the crack and wound around one of the chairs by the fireplace, engulfing it in a thick vine that was creeping it’s way to the seat next to it. 

“You don’t watch horror movies,” Riley said, “but how are you with ghost stories?” 

Desi circled the room and shone her light in all it’s corners. “I don’t mind a good gothic ghost story as long as it’s not too scary and it has a happy ending,” 

“A happy ending?” Riley asked as a flash of lightning sparked. 

“Yes, you know,” Desi peered at the books on the shelves trying to read some of the titles, “the ghost’s murder is solved and they pass over to the other side to rest in peace, that kind of thing.” 

“Like in the movie Ghost?” 

“Who doesn’t love Patrick Swayze?” 

A gust of wind hammered against the house like it wanted to reach the people inside and a blast of air surged up through the crack in the floor and rushed around the room. The filthy curtains hanging in the windows swelled forward in the draught, leering out towards Desi and Riley. The storm moaned, or something did, in chorus with the mouldering curtain fabric that flapped with a sound like raven’s wings. 

“I’m starting to wonder if we shouldn’t have just waited in the car,” Riley took three large steps away from the windows. 

“Guys?” Desi and Riley heard Bozer calling from the living room. “Guys?” he said again, “have you found anything?” 

“I think we’re done here,” Riley said to Desi, who nodded, and they quickly left the library. 

“We found dust, decay and creepy curtains.” Desi said when they were all stood around the fireplace together “What did you find?” 

“Dust, decay and a creepy ceiling,” Mac answered. 

Riley moved closer to the light of the flames, “Lovely.” 

“Can you hear me?” Matty’s voice sounded in the team’s ears. “Guys?” 

“Matty?” Mac said. 

  


“Good, we’ve got you back,” Matty clicked her fingers at Russ to get his attention. Russ looked up from the tablet in his hands and straightened his neck to let the phone he had jammed between his jaw and shoulder drop into his lap. He twitched his chin to show he was paying attention. 

“We’re here,” Riley said, “The Amityville House of Horrors is back online. 

“Thank goodness!” Russ pushed himself up from his seat, “We’ve been trying to get you back since our last contact ended. That storm you’re in must be a doozy.” 

“Yeah, it’s getting a little apocalyptic here,” Bozer said, “I am starting to wonder if when we open the door we’ll find that the house is in Munchkinland and it’s squashed the Wicked Witch of the East. 

“How goes the ghostly doings?” Russ asked. “Have any words written in blood appeared on the walls yet?” 

There was a stunned silence from the other end of the coms. 

“Don’t put ideas in their heads!” Matty hissed at Russ in an undertone. “I’m still working on exfil,” she added in a normal voice. “Some of the roads near where you are have been flooded and I haven’t been able to get anyone to you yet but I have found out some more about the house you’re in.” 

“Okay,” Mac said, sounding uncharacteristically tentative. 

“The house has been empty since 1855 after a number of deaths occurred in the family who lived there.” 

“Deaths?” Bozer asked. “Deaths with a _‘s’_ , like, plural? More than one?” 

“Evidently,” Matty said, “The family, the Whitlock’s, moved out of their home shortly after the deaths happened and no one has lived there since.” 

“And I’ve found this, I’m sending it to you now.” Russ tapped his tablet and the video he’d downloaded transferred to the team’s phones. “The house has had visitors in the last couple of years, including the two shining examples of the You Tube generation in the recording I’ve just sent you. They call themselves the Spook-tectives. They go to abandoned and so called haunted places and film themselves exploring dark rooms and frightening each other. They made one of their shows in the house you’re in a little while ago.” Russ tapped his tablet again and the recording appeared on the War Room’s screen. 

“Yo!” the young man with bleached blond hair curling out from beneath his beanie on the display called into the camera, “Chad and Chet here again. Are you ready for another spook-tacular episode of Spook-tectives?” Chad – or Chet – threw up a peace sign. He was in the library Desi and Riley had just been in and the shelves they’d been examining were visible behind him, illuminated by the light of the camera. The greenish tint of the light made Chad/Chet’s eyes shine yellow and gave the room a sinister glow. 

“Me and Chet, say hi Chet,” the camera span around to show the face of the cameraperson, another young man, one with an beanie and an eyebrow piercing, who grinned and said, “Hi!” 

“Me and Chet,” Chad said when the camera focused back on him, “Are in the Whitlock house, somewhere well known as a hub for spook-tastic occurrences.” 

“Spook-tastic occurrences?” Desi said into the coms. 

“Like, yeah, hommie” Russ replied in his best ‘surf dude’ voice. 

Matty fixed Russ with a frown. “It’s probably better that you never do that again.” 

Russ pouted a little, he’d been practicing that voice. 

“We're here in the library,” Chad continued, “and we’re just getting ready to explore the rest of the house.” The camera panned around the room, it’s light casting shadows and creating twisted highlights on the dusty surroundings. “This place is full of gnarly old stuff,” Chad said, “like books, chairs and, you know, tables. I wonder what else we’ll find.” He put his face close to the camera lenses. “Will it be creepy noises? Spooky sights? Restless spirits? Communication from across the veil? Let’s go and see” The camera followed Chad as he walked out of the room towards the hallway. “So, spook fans, the story of this place is that ghosts have walked it’s empty rooms ever since two members of the family who lived here died one tragedy filled night.” 

Behind the camera Chet said, “Spooky!” drawing out the word with a long, high pitched ‘Ooh! 

“This place is humming with vibes,” Chad said as he walked through the library door, “All the hairs on my body are standing up, look!” he paused and rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, holding his arm out so the camera could zoom in on a patch of skin on his forearm. 

“Woah!” Chet said from behind the camera. 

“I know, right?” Chad said. “We’re in the hallway now,” he narrated as the camera moved around to take in the stairway and the front door, “now this location is where...did you hear that?” Chad froze in place. His eyes darted around. “There it is again!” The picture zoomed in on Chad’s pale face. “Is that...?” 

Chet moved the camera from side to side searching for whatever had made his friend freeze with fright. 

“Over there,” Chad shouted, “look!” 

The camera spun in the direction Chad was pointed and the screen was filled with a flash of white light. A crash filled the microphone, then a scream from Chad or Chet, or possibly both of them, and the video showed images of dark and light shapes swinging wildly as the Spook-tective ran from the house. There was a flash of static and the video ended. 

  


“Okay,” Mac said as he Bozer, Riley and Desi stared at each other. “So Chad and Chet came here at night and scared each other. The internet is full of videos of people going into abandoned places and freaking themselves out while they film each other with their camera’s night vision filter on.” 

“And the flash at the end of the video?” Riley asked. 

“Lens flair,” Mac shrugged, “Or the reflection of the camera’s light against the mirror.” The room was lit by a burst of lightning, followed by a crash of thunder. “Or there could have been a storm, like that.” 

“A storm?” Bozer asked. A drawn out groan throbbed from above the team in a slow baritone. “I suppose you’re going to say _that_ ,” Bozer pointed upwards, “was the storm too?” 

“Old houses make all kinds of noises.” 

The front of the house was attacked by stormy blast and a flash of lightning blazed behind the front door, outlining it in a bright white light. 

“That was definitely the thunderstorm.” Mac’s voice sounded unconvinced even to himself. 

Another moan rumbled with a low menacing growl. Mac’s heart rate increased as something primeval deep inside him responded to the predatory threat in the sound. Cold air surged down the stairs with the force of an angry fist, swirling up dust and blowing out all the candles the team had lit. The shadows cast by the fire, the only light left burning, convulsed unnaturally. 

Bozer cleared his throat in the dark, “Mac, if you say that was caused by the storm you and I might not be able to stay friends.” 

“It was…it was...” the house Mac had grown up in used to make noises in bad weather, the eaves creaked and the back door squeaked, but it had never made a sound like the one he’d just heard. That noise was something else. Something ‘other’. Mac wondered if the hairs on his arms were standing up like Chad’s had. “It was...I’m going to shed a bit more light on the situation.” Mac found the box of matches and started to relight the candles. He felt fear all the time, fear for his life, his physical safety, the safety of his friends, the safety of innocents, but those fears were firmly fixed in the real world and had quantifiable causes. Bad people with bad intentions could hurt him and his friends. Weapons made of metal could cut and burn. Even lethal pathogens were concreted in reality - they were made of elements that could be seen under a microscope. Shadows and moans and the presence of _something_ were out of his wheelhouse. He dealt with the real and the possible. Whatever was happening in that house? That was edging towards the realm of the impossible and the extraordinary and Mac had no knowledge to pull on and work with. He held a match at a candle’s wick until it caught, he could do this though, he thought. Light was real, photons and waves and electromagnetic radiation were things he understood. They were things he could use to help by bringing light to the room. 

“What’s going on?” Matty’s voice suddenly came through the coms making Mac jump. 

“Well,” Riley said, “it’s difficult to say. The weather outside the house was inside the house just now. That’s not supposed to happen.” 

“Maybe a window has blown open upstairs,” Desi suggested. “We could go up and close it.” 

“You want to go upstairs?” Bozer asked. The team turned to stare up at the shadows of the stairwell that yawned like a gaping maw, deep and ominous. 

Desi took the candle Mac handed her, “Not really, but I don’t want what just happened to happen again.” 

Bozer hummed in reluctant agreement. “Me either. Let’s just go up and get it over and done with.” 

“I’ve discovered the story of what happened in the house,” Matty said in the team’s ears as they headed, side by side, towards the stairs. The coms crackled and Matty’s voice vanished. 

“She'll be back soon,” Mac said, “Let’s just get this over with.” 

He made himself put his foot on the first step and started to climb. The rest of the team followed, carefully stepping on the wooden stairs and pressing much closer to each other than they normally would. It felt to Mac that with each step the shadows around him were growing darker and thicker. He almost believed that if he put his hand up to one of the dark shapes he would feel something dense and tangible against his fingers. 

At the top of the stairs the shadows stretched and loomed on the walls around them. Mac gripped his candle tight and held it higher but the small flames did little to penetrate the gloom 

A buzz of their coms announced that Matty had reconnected with them. “Are you there?” 

“We’re here, Matty.” Bozer said, “We can hear you.” 

“Good.” Matty let out a breath. “So, the story of the house. It used to be owned by August and Victoria Whitlock, who lived there with their two children, Ellis August and Lula Mercy. Ellis and Lula were born on the same day ten years apart.” 

“That sounds nice so far,” Riley said. “Let me guess, things didn’t stay that way?” 

“Unfortunately not. The family were living an ordinary life until a terrible storm one night in November 1855 when Ellis was seventeen and Lula was seven. It was one of those hundred year storms where trees that have stood for centuries are felled and three months’ worth of rain falls in two hours. When the storm hit the family were all in the house except for Ellis who heading home from a trip away.” 

“It was a dark and stormy night!” Bozer whispered pointedly. 

“There used to be a stream at the edge of the property,” Matty continued, “it’s gone now but it was there when the Whitlock’s lived in the house and all the rain that had fallen during the thunderstorm had turned it’s normally slow trickle into a torrent. 

“I’ve found it on an old map,” Russ’ voice joined Matty’s “The stream was diverted by construction over thirty years ago. There’s just a shallow divot in the ground where it used to be now. You probably walked over it on your way to the house.” 

“Now, Lula had missed her brother while he was away and was watching from the highest window in the house to see him come home,” Matty said, “she would have spotted him when his carriage started to cross the bridge that spanned the stream. Unfortunately the rushing water had weakened the foundation of the bridge and when Ellis’ carriage reached the middle it collapsed and Ellis was thrown into the water and he drowned. The newspaper article I found said that when Lula saw the accident happen she ran out of her room to get to her brother and in her hurry to reach him she tripped and fell down the stairs. By the time her parents reached her she was already dead. Her neck had been broken.” 

Desi stopped moving, “The brother and sister died on the same night? That’s so sad.” 

“That’s what the report says,” Matty answered, “Their parents were devastated and left the house the next day and no one has lived there since.” 

The story was heart breaking. All that loss, all that grief. Mac looked around him at the peeling walls and dank emptiness. It was almost possible to believe that, well, people didn’t always recover from experiences like that, that kind of trauma left behind scars that couldn’t be seen. Maybe events that intense could make an indelible impression on places too. Mac shook himself. He was letting the oppressive mood of the house cloud his judgement, he needed to focus. 

“Let’s check the rooms for open windows then get back to the fire where it’s warm,” he said. “Boze, with me?” 

Bozer nodded. 

“Keep safe everyone,” Russ said over the coms, “We’ll keep you informed about exfil and any further developments.” 

“Copy that.” Mac said. 

And the coms fell silent. 

When they reached the upstairs landing the team stood looking at each other. All of them unwilling to move, none of them sure what exactly they were supposed to do next. Training, pragmatism and the call of the fire in the room downstairs won out and the team stepped forward as one. The sooner they’d checked the rooms the sooner they could get back to the warm hearth. 

“Me and Riles will check the rooms on the right,” Desi said. 

Mac nodded, “Boze and I will look in the ones on the left.” 

“Okay, let’s get this.” Riley tightened the straps of her backpack. 

The door of the bedroom nearest to Mac creaked when he pushed it open, it’s high pitched screech a sharp contrast to the dull booms of the thunder outside. He stepped into the room with Bozer at his shoulder and was faced with derelict, rotting comfort and four more darkened walls that seemed to lean towards him. A four poster bed stood in the middle of the room opposite a dresser that had pots and brushes lined up on it’s counter waiting to be used. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and the sense of forlorn abandonment Mac had felt downstairs was acute. The room he was in was where the parents of the family had rested, dreamt, and where they’d had expected to lie together on that final night with their whole family safe under one roof. But a storm had stopped that from happening, the Whitlock’s didn’t gather together in their home that day, and they never did again. The sight of the desolate bed made Mac want to apologise to the room, the house and the family that had been lost for the tragedy that had happened there. 

“Nothing here,” Bozer said, a floor board creaking under his weight as he moved, “let’s try the next room.” 

They passed through a bathroom filled with the pervasive smell of damp, cracked tiles and a stained claw footed bath and walked into another bedroom. This one held a much smaller bed than the one in the other room, a child sized bed, and Mac saw the curling pages of a book with animals and letters on the cover sitting on the table beside the headboard. Bozer started violently and jumped back swearing. Mac turned to see what had frightened him and jumped too. A pale shape sat on a set of shelves in a corner, a shape fashioned to look like a human baby, it’s eyes were large and staring and it’s hands stretched out into the room. 

“It’s a doll,” Bozer panted. “Of all the Child’s Play stuff of nightmares that you don’t want leering out at you in a dark room! The fright of that just took off two years of my life.” 

“Yeah, I could have done without turning round and seeing Chucky too.” Mac turned his back on the toy. Dolls were creepy at the best of times and seeing one sitting in the dark in a haunted…that is…an old, abandoned house in the middle of the night had sent his adrenaline spiking. He pushed a hand into his hair and took the deepest breath he could, letting the air out slowly while mentally barking at himself to _get a grip!_ Beside him Bozer was ringing his hands together with his head bowed. He was frightened by the house, dramatically so, which was to be expected from Bozer, but Mac saw something else in the lines of his body. The slump in his posture had been put there by something other than fear. 

“Are you okay?” Mac asked. “Aside from having the bejesus scared out of you by The Valley of the Dolls over there.” 

“It’s,” Bozer shoved his hands into his jean’s pockets, “The brother and sister that lived here, dying on the same day. Lula saw her brother die and it broke her. It broke the whole family. It’s sad.” 

“It is,” Mac said. Bozer didn’t talk about his losing his brother much but Mac knew the events of his birthday had stayed with him. Mac wondered sometimes if Bozer’s big personality, his dramatics and effusive manner, were there to cover up his hurt and to try to take up more than one person’s space in the world, as if he was wanted carry his brother’s presence alongside his own. “I’m sorry, I didn't think, are you all right?” 

Bozer’s expression was lit by the candle flame that deepened the darkness under his eyes and the lines cutting his forehead. “I’m as okay as anyone stuck in a haunted house in the middle of the night with a thunderstorm exploding outside can be,” he said. “I’m fine, I don’t know, the story just pulled me up short for a minute.” 

Years of being Bozer’s best friend should have sharpened Mac’s ability to give physical comfort. Bozer was a hugger, a high fiver and a fist bumper, and someone who had no reservations about crawling over the person on the other end of the sofa to reach the TV remote control. Maybe it had, Mac reasoned, but he didn’t always feel like he was good at it. Squeezing Bozer’s shoulder felt inadequate, maybe he should pull him in for a hug, but Mac didn’t know how they would hug while they were both holding open flames and the itch of unease between Mac’s shoulder blades wouldn’t let him lower his guard to totally focus on his friend. 

Mac rested his hand on Bozer’s arm and tried to put empathy and compassion into the touch. His hand was cold and so was Bozer’s jacket under his palm but Mac thought he saw a glint of gratitude in his friend’s eyes. 

“There are no open windows here so the wind didn’t come from any of the rooms we’ve been in, let’s find the girls and see how they’re getting on.” Mac said. 

A pair of cuff links and a comb were sat on the dresser next to the bed in the room that must have been Ellis’. The space Desi and Riley were in was masculine, that of an eldest son. Riley checked the window overlooking the trees at the back of the house. “That draft didn’t come from here,” she said, “everything’s locked up tight.” 

“I don’t think anything in here has been touched for a hundred years.” Desi walked slowly around the room with her candle held up. “Not since, you know.” She dipped her head to the side. 

“Not since that faithful stormy night over a century ago.” Riley frowned, “Did that make me sound like Bozer?” 

Desi wrinkled up her nose in an apology. “A little bit.” 

“It’s obviously time to move on, let’s check the last room then head back downstairs to the fire.” 

They left footprints behind them on the dusty floor as they made their way to the room at the front of the house. Mac and Bozer’s footsteps creaked reassuringly in the room across from them. 

Desi stared at the wooden wall separating them all. “Do you think they're okay in there?” 

“I’m sure if they weren’t we’d know. If anything happens I don’t think it will happen quietly. Bozer will yell and Mac will blow something up using rust and candle wax. We’ll hear.” 

“That’s true.” 

Waiting at the end of the hall was the final room to be checked. The door was closed and a large metal key sat in it’s lock. The key was thick and black and had long, spindly cobwebs hanging from it’s ring and Desi glared down it. Her soft sigh was almost lost in the sound of rain drumming on the roof. “I’m going to have to touch that, aren’t I?” 

“I’m all about keyboards.” Riley held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Dust and creepy spider’s webs? Not so much.” 

“Let’s just get this over with.” Desi gripped the key and twisted, it turned with a smooth snick and she and Riley shared a look of surprise. “That was easier than I expected it to be. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” 

“I suppose it all depends on what’s in that room.” 

Desi pushed the door open slowly, taking time to check each section of the room as it was revealed as if she expected armed combatants to be waiting. When nothing jumped, fell or charged towards her she stepped into the room. A rocking horse with a braided tail and a red leather saddle stood in one corner and a dolls house that was a miniature version of the Whitlock’s home was in another. The moonlight filtering in through the window showed a shelf holding wooden building blocks and a spinning top, and a small cradle meant for a doll to sleep in was pushed against a wall. 

“This must have been Lula’s nursery.” Desi touched the rocking horse with the toe of one boot and set it moving back and forth. “I always wanted one of these when I was little. I kind of still do.” 

“What is it with little girls and ponies?” Riley asked. 

“You too?” 

“Not that I would ever have admitted it, but yes.” Riley stepped around the rocking horse to walk towards the room’s window. It faced the front of the house and was firmly shut against the outside world. Riley could see the trees in the garden thrashing viciously from side to side in the gale through the raindrops pummelling the glass. The rain pouring down the window obscured Riley’s view into the garden but, she blinked, that wasn’t the only thing blurring her vision. There were tears in her eyes. Tears trembling on her lashes and threatening to spill down over her cheeks. And in her chest, Riley rubbed a fist into her breastbone, sat a thick, cold heaviness of sorrow and loss and... 

“Do you feel that?” Riley wrapped her arms around herself. 

Desi came to stand beside her. She shuddered and hunched forward, burrowing into her jacket. “Sad?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Really, really sad, like…” Riley peered through the rain speckled glass into the yard and at a depression in the grass that was filling with rain. “That must be where the stream used to be,” she pointed at the gathering water. 

“So this must be where Lula was when she saw her brother die.” 

“She must have been standing right here when-”

The night was lit by a blinding flash. The air crackled as a bolt of lightning hit one of the trees standing in front of the house. Fire flared, bark, branches and leaves burst outwards and when the white light seared into Desi and Riley’s eyes cleared they saw the broken remains of the tree glowing orange in the darkness. 

“The window isn’t open,” Desi put a tense hand on Riley’s arm, “I think we should go back to the fire now.” 

“Me too. I think that too. Let’s get the boys and boogie.” 

The team met up in the hallway outside the bedrooms. They didn’t sprint towards the fire in the living room but they all moved down the stairs at a healthy pace. 

The fire in the living room was still burning just as they’d left it, a warm light in the darkness, but the rest of the room was – 

“Have the chairs been moved?” Bozer turned in a circle in the glow of the fireplace. “And the clock and that table? That’s not where they were is it? I’m not going crazy am I?” 

“No.” Mac looked around him. “No, you’re not, Boze.” 

The chairs, the table, all the furniture in the room, was in a different place than it had been when the team had gone up the stairs. There were no drag marks in the dust on the floor to show where it had been pushed or pulled. It was like the furniture had been moved by, Mac touched his pocket to feel the comforting shape of his knife, by magic. Or spirits. 

“I’m not going crazy, that’s a relief. Or maybe it isn’t.” Bozer started to back away. “I don’t know if I’d rather be going mad or be in a room where a couch has just been relocated by an unseen force.” 

“Tough call.” Riley followed Bozer’s slow steps out of the room. 

“It feels like we’re in a lose/lose situation right now,” Desi said as she and Mac followed Riley and Bozer. They kept moving until they bumped into each other in the hallway. 

The storm outside rumbled and boomed. Mac loved storms. Whenever one happened when he was home he would turn all the lights off and sit in the dark watching the sky and counting to measure the distance between the thunder and the lightning. As a child people used to tell him that his mom was looking down on him and during thunderstorms he liked to imagine she was watching the bursts of light and sound with him and that she found them as thrilling as he did. The storm outside the Whitlock house though, Mac couldn’t see that as the fascinating result of an unstable atmosphere. The pounding rain and relentless flares of positive and negative charges felt malevolent, an unquiet presence overhead pressing darkness and chaos onto him and his friends. Cold crept into Mac’s flesh. He shivered. 

“Does anyone else feel really cold here?” Mac asked. When he’d reached the bottom of the stairs the temperature had noticeably dropped. “I know we’ve just moved away from the fire but it’s freezing here, right?” 

“Yes,” Desi rubbed her hands over her arms, “it’s icy. And not just because the fire is in the other room. I thought it could be because we’re opposite the door and there was a draft but it’s more than that.” 

“This is where she died.” Riley looked down at her feet then up to the top of the stairs. “Lula, when she fell this would have been where she-”

A moan, low and sonorous, rang through the house. Bitter air blasted toward the team, rocking them back with it’s force. Mac’s instinct told him to run but there was nowhere safe to go. There was no other shelter from the storm that would tear into him and his friends as soon as they stepped outside. 

“Oh, come on!” Mac heard Bozer shout. “We get it, the house is haunted, there’s no need to turn the spooky stuff up to eleven!” 

Mac pressed closer to his friends, the four of them formed a huddle to defend and protect as best they could. The storm was unyielding. Rain, wind, thunder and lightning rushed at the old wooden house without mercy. 

“...copy?” Mac heard in his coms. 

“Matty?” 

“...read me?” Matty shouted. 

“Only just.” 

“We’ve found something else out about the house,” Matty’s voice was tinny and distant in Mac’s ear. “It’s been owned by half a dozen people since the Whitlock’s moved out but no one has ever stayed there for a full day. The Spook-tectives aren’t the only ones who’ve run out of there screaming. Something happened to scare each owner off before they’d even spent a night in that place. The last person left decades ago and no one has tried to live there since.” 

Desi snorted, “Imagine that.” 

“Are you all okay?” 

“If by okay you mean terrified but still alive then yes,” Bozer said. 

“I-” Matty’s voice vanished with a fizz of static. 

  


“What happened?” Russ sat up straight in his chair. 

“I don’t know,” Matty shook the tablet in her hands as if that might spur it on to give her the information she wanted. She raised her voice so that it carried beyond the boarders of the War Room’s glass walls. “I don’t know and I don’t like not knowing.” Everyone who heard her started to type faster. 

“Did you lose them?” 

“The signal was sketchy but it was there and then it just vanished. Either the weather broke up the connection are something else did.” 

One of Russ’ eyebrows quirked up, arranging the creases in his forehead into a study in curious intrigue “Something else?” 

Matty took two heartbeats to steady herself. She was always level headed, even when she was furious, heartbroken and sick with dread. The storm probably was what had cut her off from her people but you didn’t get to be good at what she did – and Matty was very good at what she did – without considering all the possibilities including the impossible, mad as a hatter, so far off the wall you can’t see the wall anymore ones. The bizarre was often what came at you from your blind spot and sent your plans spiralling so Matty had learned to have an open mind. 

“Are you one of those people who only believes in what they can see, touch and make money from?” she asked. “Are you going to tell me you don’t believe in anything like luck or coincidences?” 

“Not at all. Ninety nine percent of the time a person can make their own luck and situations can be managed with the right words or a big pile of cash but,” Russ slowly drew a hand down over his beard, “I’ve been to a lot of places, wild places, places on the edge of humanity and have met people and seen things that fit into that other one percent where something different dwells.” 

A moment of silence loaded with unsaid things, untold stories and a memory of listening to harsh breaths and waiting for the sunrise passed. 

Russ cleared his throat with an attempt at brusque confidence. “But the team are okay? The coms have just going a bit squiffy? ” he said. 

“I think so, it did sounded like something was happening in that house.” 

“They’ll be all right though? They can handle a little thunder and lightning can’t they?” 

“Of course.” Matty matched Russ’ attempt at keep calm and carry on certainty with her own. Of course her people would be all right. She raised her voice again, “And as soon as the coms are back online I’ll speak to my agent and confirm their status won’t I?” 

  


Mac had a litany of swear words on the tip of his tongue when a huge flash of lightning erupted. It’s dazzling white light surrounded the front door, shining through the space in the door jam. The door rattled like someone outside was trying to break in. 

Overwhelmed, Mac barely had time to tell himself something reassuring about how that was probably just being caused by the rain when a frigid gust rolled down the stairs towards the door carrying a noise that sounded like a child’s laugh. The fire in the living room blazed in the grate as the front door bucked wildly, met by another push of cold reaching towards it. 

The team press together, assaulted from all sides, with nowhere to go and nothing to fight, all thinking that there was little wonder that Chad and Chet had sprinted out of the house. 

“I officially do not like this!” Riley yelled. 

“I’d usually ask fight of flight right about now,” Desi’s eyes were narrowed in frustration, “but there’s nowhere to go and nothing to fight. How do we stop this?” 

With the roar of the wind and the rush of the cold it was like the storm was inside the house, in the hallway, above the team and under their feet, pulling and pushing at them, demanding and desperate. 

“Look,” Bozer yelled over the sound of the tempest outside the house, the one churning around him and the bangs of the wooden door. “It has to be Lula and Ellis who are haunting this place, right? I think we need to help them. They didn’t get to be together did they? So let’s help them.” 

“What do you mean?” Mac shouted. Someone had taken hold of each of his hands, or maybe he’d grabbed for someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. The solid grips of his friends hands in his felt like the only real things in amongst chaos. 

“Lula and Ellis. The Whitlock children. They died before they got to be together that night. Maybe all this,” Bozer threw his arms wide as the door continued to crash and the gale tore around him, “is them to get to get to each other.” 

Mac’s mouth fell open but he had no idea what to say. They were caught up in a storm, the turmoil around them had nothing to do with ghosts, unfinished business or the manifestation of sibling love. But...childish laughter echoed in the chill that had seeped into Mac’s bones...but….

“What are you saying we should do, Boze?” Desi asked. 

Bozer pointed to the front door. “I’m saying we should open it and let Ellis in.” 

What?” Mac looked at the door that was fighting against the hinges holding it in place. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Bozer said. 

The storm was already all around Mac and his friends so Bozer was right, what else could go wrong? And if opening the door helped stop what was happening Mac was happy to go with it and do the mental gymnastics needed to process the esoteric metaphysics later. He nodded. 

Bozer pulled himself away from the group. He ran over to the front door and pulled on it’s handle. 

There was light. The fire flared high and hot. 

If Matty had made the team do an after action report about what happened Mac wouldn’t have known how what to write. He didn’t know if any language that existed could describe what occurred when Bozer opened the door. What Mac experienced couldn’t be explained with words, especially not in the kind that’s expected in an official document. Reports talked about actions, intel, goals and predicted outcomes, they didn’t mention feelings of joy, love, the warmth of finally being home and the all-encompassing relief of knowing it was finally time to rest. 

Mac blinked to clear his vision and saw his team looking around them in confusion. The squall still raged outside but the air inside the house had the quiet, fresh feeling that came after a thunderstorm on a muggy day. He realised he wasn’t cold anymore. 

“Is everyone okay?” he asked. 

Bozer slammed the door shut on the rain that was leaving an erratic pattern in fat drops on the dusty floor. “Yeah,” he said, “I think,” he paused and visibly did a stock check of his wellbeing. “Yeah.” 

“I’ve heard of being in a glass case of emotion but that was more like riding a train wreck of feelings.” Desi huffed out a breath and rubbed her hands on her thighs, “Does anyone else feel like-”

“Like they’ve been hit in the face by every single emotion while falling off a cliff?” Riley asked. “Yeah.” 

The fire beckoned, warm and bright and burning merrily away in a room where all the furniture was back where it should have been. The team made their way back towards it with exhaustion dragging at their steps. 

“Team? Come in!” Matty said through the coms, “Report!” 

“We’re here, Matty,” Riley told her. 

“Are you all okay? Is everyone still in the land of the living?” 

“We’re okay,” Desi said. She and the others eased themselves down until they were sat together in front of the fire, Mac threw another log into the flames and watched it settle among the embers in the grate. “I think we could all do with eight hours sleep, a hot meal and a hotter shower but we’re okay.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Matty said. “I’ve arranged exfil for you, they’ll be with you just in time for sunrise.” 

“Thank you,” Mac jabbed at the fire with the poker. “But I hope they don’t get here too early, I've never seen a tree that’s been struck by lightning, I’d like to have a look at the one in the yard before we leave.” 

“Just exactly what has been happening there?” Matty asked. “Are you telling me that things been getting hit by lightning?” 

“That’s not the half of it,” Bozer said. “We have stories that will make your hair curl.” 

“Are those stories weirder than usual,” a smile lightened Matty’s tone, “or did Mac just make something explode again?” 

“Nothing exploded,” Mac said with a trace of indignation, “Well, the tree that was hit by lightning kind of did but that was nothing to do with me.” 

“Okay then,” Matty said with clipped calm. “Stay safe and we’ll see you soon.” 

The heat of the fire filled the room and the storm outside no longer sounded like it wanted to harm the people sheltering in the house. It was probably finally moving away, Mac told himself. All he and his friends had to do now was stay safe and wait until morning. The team huddled closer together for warmth and comfort. 

“So it _was_ a dark and stormy night then,” Bozer wore an expression that wasn’t smoothed down enough to hide his smugness. 

“It certainly was, Boze,” Desi said. 

  


Matty disconnected the call to the team as Russ walked into the War Room holding two cups of coffee and a box of donuts. The smell of the coffee drifted towards Matty and she let out a sigh of anticipation at the promise of having a hot caffeinated drink in one hand and a pastry in the other. She hoped Russ had picked up a salted caramel one. 

“Breakfast,” Russ offered, placing his packages down on the table. “So everyone survived the night?” he added when he straightened up. 

“Yes.” Matty flipped open the lid of the box of donuts and searched for her favourite. “Exfil will be with them in a couple of hours.” 

Russ dropped heavily into a leather chair. “Good good.” He picked up his drink and took a deep, satisfying inhale of the steam rising from the cup. 

“Did you enjoy your first Phoenix ghost story?” Matty asked. She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes with pleasure. Russ was...he was a lot of things...Matty reflected, and one of those things was someone who had an excellent taste in coffee. 

“Very much. I’ve always liked a bit of a spooky do, and I enjoy a happy ending.” 

“So you like Halloween then?” 

“Absolutely. Although it’s a bit different now to how it used to be when I was growing up, people used to carve turnips instead of pumpkins then. I don’t mind the change – pumpkins are much easier to carve – but I do miss the smell of burning turnip, it’s an aroma that reminds me of my childhood.” 

Matty hummed. “You’ll be happy to go trick or treating this year then?” There was always a party at Mac’s house at Halloween and Matty was never sure who enjoyed it more or ate the most candy, the children who visited the house or her Phoenix agents. 

“I’d love to,” Russ grinned. “I already have a pirate costume in my wardrobe for such an occasion.” 

“A pirate costume? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Matty help up her coffee cup. “Happy Halloween, Russ.” 

Russ tapped his cup against Matty’s. “Happy Halloween.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever want to disappear into a Pinterest rabbit hole I can recommend looking up creepy/abandoned houses. I was just hoping for a couple of images to help me picture the Whitlock House before I started writing the story and once I started searching I was there for ages. There were loads of images and they were creepy, sad and weirdly compelling all at the same time.
> 
> I’m British and when I was little we used to carve turnips on Halloween, I don’t remember pumpkins being available. Turnips are much harder to carve than pumpkins, to hollow them out you practically have to attack them with a hammer and a chisel, so I’m glad that the shops have pumpkins in them in October now but like Russ the smell of singed turnip was a part of my childhood and I miss it a little bit.
> 
> I absolutely believe that Russ has a pirate costume in the back of his wardrobe. I also think he wouldn’t take much persuading to dress as Frank - N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show for any kind of fancy dress party.


End file.
